Homesick
by TheTomorrowKnight
Summary: Spoilers for Far From Home. Peter thought his troubles with Beck were over, but his final illusion was far greater than Peter could have guessed. Thanks to Beck, Peter's identity is revealed and he's wanted for a murder he didn't commit. Until his name is cleared, Peter must lay low, and what better way to do that than to let Fury set him up in his own traveling witness protection.


Peter stared at the wall of an unassuming motel room. The wallpaper was yellowed with age, or at least he hoped it was age. He focused on the way scraps of it tore from the wall and curled into grimy, tattered spirals. At first, he found one spot to keep his eyes on, and then he counted every little imperfection. There was the barest hint of a pattern stretching the wall and if he squinted just right he thought he could make out what it once was and follow its repetitions.

The wall wasn't distracting enough. It certainly didn't ease his anxiety either.

And it did nothing to drown out the conversation happening around him.

Decoys. Safe houses. Advanced disguise technology. The words bubbled inside his head until they lost all meaning.

He knew this could be the last night he spent with his Aunt May for a long time. But if he thought about it he wouldn't be able to contain himself and he didn't want to make their meeting with Fury any longer than it needed to be.

"Peter?" May wrapped her arm around him, and he melted into her touch.

His focus on the wall shattered. Peter took a long, deep breath. It came out shakier than he wanted. He longed to ask about him and Aunt May, or when this would all blow over but he knew he wouldn't get the answers he wanted.

"Decoys? You think that will help?" He asked, instead. "Won't people realize they're not… me?"

"You'd be surprised." Fury said.

Before him, Fury dissolved and formed into a goblin-like man with green skin and long, pointed ears. Peter startled and May let out a surprised yelp.

The man's appearance should have frightened him. But he'd learned to trust his, for lack of a better term, Peter tingle over the last week. It wasn't going off now.

"Where's—"

"You're—"

The man smiled. "Fury is doing business elsewhere. My name is Talos, my presence allows Fury to be in two places at once." He shifted back into Fury. "There are others like myself who will help keep people off your scent."

Others. Risking their lives for him. _Maybe they're bulletproof_, he thought. It was unlikely, but it made him feel slightly better about the situation. "Thank you, Talos."

Talos nodded and stood to leave. Aunt May showed him out while Peter remained rooted to the bed. He was acutely aware of the time on the bedside clock and it was later than he liked.

There was less and less time before morning. Before he had to say goodbye. A voice in his head told him that months from now they'd be together again. They'd have everything figured out and he'd be back in school in no time. But that voice was drowned out by one that was even louder. This was going to be his life from now on. He would spend the rest of his life as a fugitive, running from the law.

Peter felt his breath ripped from his lungs and, with it, came a burst of sobs. This was his life. Correction, the broken, crumbled remains. He cried even harder.

Aunt May returned and he was long past the point of putting on a brave face for her. She sat on the bed beside him and drew him close into a tight hug. His tears landed safely on her shoulder.

When he could breathe again, Aunt May pulled out of the hug and wiped away his tears. Normally he would chide her for that but not this time.

"This is temporary." She said.

He nodded a little too quickly. His words caught in his throat. "Yeah. Temporary."

Neither of them slept that night. Instead, Peter and Aunt May curled up in bed, an enormous pile of vending machine goodies between them, watching only the trashiest 2am television.

Peter relished every minute of it.

Morning came and they were both exhausted; physically and emotionally. Peter was glad May was leaving first. He wasn't sure he'd be able to leave if she were still with him.

When the group working for Fury came for Aunt May the goodbyes were cut short. They wanted their job done fast and efficiently. It was also made clear it would be better for Peter and Aunt May not to have any contact with each other, lest one of them be caught. Peter did his best not to think about that.

Amidst the chaos, Aunt May managed to wrap Peter in one final hug. "Be safe." She said into his ear.

"You too."

Peter watched her go, and when the door to the room closed it took all of his energy not to curl up into a ball on the mattress.

It had been a hellish week.

He should have known Quentin Beck had more tricks up his sleeve. He shouldn't have trusted he was safe so soon. And _that _command? How had he not realized? The word "execute" wasn't exactly the most normal command to power anything down let alone killer robots.

He'd messed up big time.

He wasn't sure if there was a way to fix this mess.

When he saw his face up there, and saw the playback of Beck's death, Peter didn't give himself time to process; didn't give anyone time to process. He swung down from his perch and, despite M.J.'s newfound hatred of web slinging, swept them both to the safety and privacy of a nearby rooftop.

"I'm sorry I know you said never again but I had to get us out of there while everyone was distracted I—" His words dissolved into strangled sounds and his body shook.

A thought dug at the back of his mind.

_Was he still in an illusion_.

But no, no, he didn't feel the Peter tingle. This, this was real. Fuck. This was real.

"Peter what was that?"

Peter remembered M.J. was there. She was alarmed and scared and— oh no. The way she looked at him.

"I swear that's not what happened M.J. I mean— yeah I-I said that but it wasn't like that the command is what turned them off. I know it doesn't make any sense—"

"Peter." She stepped closer to him but there was still space between them. "I believe _you_."

He replayed those three words in his mind. The words that broke through the noise of his beating heart and let him know the entire world wasn't against him. That someone knew this was a mistake; one huge misunderstanding. Not just anyone either, but M.J. Despite everything that had happened in Europe, she believed in Spider-Man. She believed in Peter Parker.

He wanted to stay on that rooftop with her forever. But it wasn't safe.

Peter brought her back to the ground below. She gave him a quick kiss that he barely registered before swinging out of sight.

His first thought had been to take off the suit and mask, walk around as Peter Parker. But there was no secret identity anymore. For the first time, his identity had been broadcasted to the world. Worse, it wasn't as New York's friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man, but New York's wanted for murder Spider-Man.

If Tony had been there none of this would have happened.

He stuck mainly to the rooftops until nightfall. Then he put on his street clothes and pulled his hood up. There was nowhere for him to go, but he was lucky enough he didn't have to find anything.

Fury found him. Or, more accurately, Talos did.

Talos had left a photostatic veil for him the night before. Peter had stashed it in the bathroom; out of sight, out of mind. Now that Aunt May was gone, and Peter was alone, he took it out and examined it.

The tech was unlike anything he had ever seen before. Which, having known Tony Stark for the length of time that he did, was rather impressive.

The photostatic veil, or nano mask, was a thin, mesh-like surface of holographic cells that could mimic anyone's features. The tech required DNA and voice samples to operate properly but Peter had no idea who had provided that for his use. He hoped it had been done voluntarily.

Peter held the veil in his hands. It was light and smooth to the touch. He examined himself in the mirror, took a breath, and positioned the veil over his face as Talos had demonstrated before.

It felt strange, and foreign, and awful. He tore it off without even turning it on. Without a doubt, he loathed it.

_I shouldn't need this. M.J. and I should be planning dates, I should be building Star Wars lego sets with Ned, I should be looking for summer jobs, I should—_

Peter set the mask aside and ran the fawcett. He wasn't sure if water was good for the mask or not, but his own face could certainly use it. The water trickled down his cheeks, its cool temperature working wonders. Peter focused on his breathing. In and out. In and out.

This was only temporary.

He scooped the mask up with his fingers.

This was temporary.

He brought the mask to his face.

Temporary.

Peter took one last look at himself in the mirror, and turned the hologram on.

The change was instantaneous. One moment, Peter Parker was there and then he was gone. He looked older somehow. His brows were thicker and his eyes were green instead of brown. Across his cheeks and nose lay a fine dusting of freckles.

He wasn't sure if the look suited him. He certainly didn't _fee_l like himself_._

Peter glanced down and noticed an ant crawling along the back of his hand. With a flick of his wrist, he shook the bug off.

"Hey."

Peter jumped at the voice and looked back toward the bathroom door. He peered around the frame but nobody was in the room either. He was still alone.

"Not cool, dude."

Peter turned to find a man that wasn't there before. He recognized the red and black suit the man wore from their clash in Germany.

Ant-Man.

Peter realized the ant he shook off had been the superhero's ride.

"I'm here to pick you up." Ant-Man said, holding out his hand.

Peter tentatively shook it. He remembered his plan in Germany to take Ant-Man down Emperor Strikes Back style. "Sorry about…"

Ant-Man waved him off. "That's in the past, P—Lucas."

Right. Lucas Lang. His name and identity for the time being. It wasn't what he would have picked.

"You ready to go?"

Peter nodded. He was ready to leave this motel room behind for good.

"Grab your stuff. This is going to be a ride you won't forget."


End file.
